Dear, our son is the Winter Spirit
by Darkrystal Sky
Summary: "Your name is Jack Frost" the moon said. "Yeah, thanks, I know that". AU! What would have happened if Jack never forgot about his past in the first place? This is just an experiment, scroll if you're not entertained, but don't send your hate.
1. The Death and Life of Jack Frost

**I know. I should focus on the Summer Twins series, a couple of other fanfictions, and an exam tomorrow. But this plot idea haunts me…**

**I don't know where this will go: maybe it will be linear, maybe just a series of one-shots.**

**Well, here we go.**

_**The Death and Life of Jack Frost**_

Of all the things, he never thought he'd die.

Not so soon, at least.

When the ice cracked under his feet and suddenly the warm touch of the sun was replaced by the cold water, he wasn't scared at first, just surprised.

Fear caught him later, when he found out he wasn't able to swim to the surface.

Because he never learned how to swim.

He moved his limbs, every second stiffer, but everything was useless. His lungs screamed for air, the world was darkening. He could not even hear his sister's voice anymore.

The first mouthful of water entered his lungs, he coughed and more water came in with excruciating burning pain.

He stopped moving.

In his last seconds he could only think about his sister, at least she was safe and sound: he saved her. She would have experienced the same awful death that was now grabbing him.

He prayed, in his mind, as the town priest taught him, to be allowed to go to heaven.

He expected white clouds and little angels, or a burning darkness.

But nothing came.

Only the freezing cold around him.

But suddenly, he didn't feel cold anymore. Was it because he already died?

No, something was wrong. Jack opened his eyes, all of a sudden. Something changed: he was still underwater but apparently time passed, because above him, in the night sky, the bright silhouette of the moon shone on him.

He felt a strange force pulling him up, the thin layer of ice broke and finally he gasped as he gratefully breathed again.

He looked up, the moon looked bigger than he ever saw it before, its light shone on him, looking almost alive. A wave of warmth and kindness chased the fear and the darkness away, as he found himself smiling.

His feet touched the ice that rethickened itself like magic.

_Jack Frost._

He looked up in surprise, he didn't know how but he knew that these words came from the Moon.

_Your name is Jack Frost._

"Yeah, well, I know that" he said. His voice sounded clear, he was a bit surprised since he just spend some time under water.

A part of him screamed this was not possible, he could have not survived. Another part was just thankful some twist of fate spared him.

The Moon told him nothing more, it stayed silent. Jack finally looked around: he was still at the lake he went ice-skating with his little sister. Few feet from him, his shepherd's crook layed on the ice. He walked to grab it, slipping a bit on the ice: strange enough he didn't feel cold, despite being barefoot.

Finally he grabbed the staff, and to his shock it covered itself in ice crystals shining of a blue light. Jack almost dropped it, and when its tip touched the ground, more flower-like patterns spread on the already frozen surface of the lake.

Filled with shock but also curiosity, he grabbed the staff already and examined it: the blue-glowing frost seemed to follow his touch, when he dropped the staff it melted and returned being a normal looking shepherd's crook, as it always was.

Jack grabbed it again and walked to a tree on the lakeside: careful he touched the cortex with the curved point and watched in awe at the frost patterns appeared on it as well. He repeated the action on another tree and the same thing happened.

He started giggling: he could create ice. He ran back to the lake, running on the icy surface, the staff's tip touching the ground, creating patterns that followed his tracks.

Then, all of a sudden, a strong gust of wind caught him and, like he did not weighed a bit, lifted him in the air. Jack almost screamed as he twirled in the air, but when he realized he was floating above the lake, admiring his own worked, smiled with joy.

Then, the wind dropped, and Jack found himself falling through trees and branches: somehow he managed to grab one of these without losing grip on his staff. He was shocked but not injured, and he found himself laughing.

Then, a warm light on the edge of the woods caught his attention: a small village's lights.

Jack's eyes widened, his village, his home.

He had to go back, to tell his mother and his sister he was fine, they were surely heartbroken, believing him dead. He rose on his feet, balancing on the bough, waiting for another gust of wind to pick him up.

He didn't have to wait long: he flew fast towards the town, landing behind a barn. He didn't land gracefully, instead he stumbled and fell with his face in the snow, its cape covering his head, he rose just to fall again. Finally he managed to get on his feet, sweeping up the snow from his clothes.

Carefully, he peeked into the main square: some people were still around. Most of them dressed in black.

Were they dressed in black because of him? Jack knew he should be sorrowful, but instead a mischievous grin appeared on his face: what about scaring them or making a good prank? That was what he was always good doing, after all.

He was already thinking about some clever way to make his return, when he spotted his little sister speaking with Father Walter on a corner of the place. She was crying, and the young priest looked like was doing his best to comfort her.

Jack's smile suddenly fell, as he walked in the shadow to approach them.

"…but he was always doing bad things" the little girl was saying

"Making fun isn't bad, child. Your brother was a wayward lad, but far from evil. I'm sure the Good Lord will forget his mistakes…"

Jack felt a lump in his throat: they were talking about him. Not able to bear that sight further, he finally stepped out of the shadows.

"Pippa…?" he called, almost a whisper.

Nor the girl nor the young man moved.

"Pippa, Father Walter? Look, I'm here, I'm fine!" he continued, rising his voice. They continued to ignore him, the boy felt a wave of panic rising in his chest.

"Pippa, please, answer me" he approached the little girl, trying to grab her shoulder, but his hand passed right through her.

Another panic attack hit him. He couldn't get a breath, his heart felt like it was going to burst. It was the worst feeling he had ever had.

The sudden realization of being a mere ghost (because, what else could he be?), a mere echo of his existence, was too much. He walked towards other people, trying in any way to interact with them, uselessly. A bunch of kids playing ran right through him, causing him to feel a wave of real physical pain.

His eyes watered, tears rolled on his cheeks. Freezing cold tears, that turned into ice as they touched the ground.

It started snowing.

Jack sat down slowly on a cut tree. His staff touched the ground and the soil around it suddenly froze. A man, passing in front of him, slipped and fell. Some children laughed. The boy opened his eyes wide: he could not interact with people directly, but through his powers he could.

He grabbed a handful of freshly fallen snow and threw it at a kid.

"Who threw that?" the child looked around with a smile, in a bunch of seconds, a snowball fight started. Jack found himself laughing again and playing with the kids, although they could not see him.

He did not know how long they played, but at one point their mothers called them back inside. Again alone on the streets, he walked back home without thinking.

The door was closed: he peeked inside a window, his breath covering the glass with ice.

His mother was cradling Pippa and singing a lullaby: Jack's abandoned skates hanged by the fireplace. The little girl wasn't crying anymore, but there was no smile on her face.

Jack walked to the door and inside the small house: when the woman noticed the door opened, she stood up and closed, but Jack was quick enough to step in.

"I'm home, mum" he said, knowing that she could not hear him "I'm sorry…I wasn't careful enough…" he added, feeling a lump in his throat.

The woman ignored him, instead addressing her daughter: "Time to sleep, little one…" she said sweetly. The kid said nothing but nodded.

Jack just stood there for a while, then and idea stroke him: he walked to the small mirror in a corner of the room, intending to freezing it and writing on it, but the sight of his reflection stopped him. The boy in the looking glass had pure white hair and light blue eyes, his skin was as pale as death and his lips slightly blue: he looked like a corpse. Shaking his head he touched the mirror with the tip of the staff: the glass was immediately frosted. Before the heat of the room could melt it, he wrote with his finger: "I'm home".

He didn't need to turn around, the gasp of surprise coming from behind him made him smile.


	2. Of wind and sea

So, it was a little success, wasn't it? Well, then here's a little chapter two for you all…

Dolphins

Jack turned around with a smile, expecting to see his family smiling as well, but he was startled by his mother's frightened look: the woman crossed herself whispering a prayer, while the child looked at her with confusion.

"Sweetheart, go call the priest" the woman whispered "Hurry, as fast as you can!"

The girl looked one last time at the mirror before running outside.

"No…" Jack murmured, approaching the woman, who started praying again "That's not what I wanted, I'm sorry…"

"Wasn't it enough? You already took my son, please spare me from this…" she was whispering when the door opened and Father Walter rushed in the small house, along with a shivering Pippa, who ran into her mother's arms.

"What happened?" the man said.

The woman pointed at the mirror, but the ice did already melt; slowly, carefully, she explained the priest what just had happened. The man listened in silence with a frown.

Jack simply stayed there, uncertain of what to do. But when Father Walter expressed his disbelief in the woman's words (she was shocked, she was tired) Jack once again froze the glass, without writing anything this time.

The churchman slowly walked towards the mirror, touching the surface as to be sure it was really ice.

"Jackson?" he asked, uncertain, after a moment.

"Yes!" Jack exclaimed, realizing only a couple of seconds later he would still need the mirror and wrote the three letters on it. His mother started sobbing.

"Missus Frost" the priest started "Go to the church. It's not all right to stay here"

"No!" the boy tried to stop them from walking out, uselessly. The man, meanwhile, sat down on a small chair, facing the mirror.

"Jackson, are you still here?"

Jack wanted to follow his family, but the priest seemed the only person willing to talk to him in that moment, so he reluctantly stayed. The boy wrote another "yes" under the first one.

The man sighed: "Listen, this is simply not right. You can't linger on this Earth anymore, you've got to go on…"

Jack frowned: like he wanted whatever happened to him. "I can't" he wrote, the priest's head in his hands. Then he left the house: the churchman probably continued talking at the walls, but Jack did not care. He climbed on a rooftop and looked at the moon.

It was the Moon who brought him back, he did not know if that was God or not, but that didn't matter.

"What am I doing here?" he asked to the white silhouette. The Moon did not answer, Jack scoffed: "Like I need your help!" he exclaimed. Soft clouds covered the sky as tiny snowflakes started to fall down. Jack walked to the church, but he did not enter. Instead, he sat down in front of the main gate and fell into slumber.

When he next opened his eyes he only saw white and light: its first thought was "here I am, heaven, the torture is done", then he realized the snow that fell during the night covered him without melting. He rose on his feet, shaking it off, and looked around.

The small village was alive again: it was a clear sunny winter morning. People were working, talking, smiling. Kids were playing in the freshly fallen snow, making snowmen and ice castles.

Jack walked around with a small smile, he wondered if he was bound to that place or not. If he was dead, at least there was one thing he wanted to see: the sea.

A small breeze was in the air: maybe he could try to ride it to East until the docks.

With a grin he started climbing a tree: in the past he often noticed the higher he went the stronger the wind was. And that was it: as soon as he reached the treetop, a stronger gust of wind snatched him and lifted him in the sky. Jack laughed with delight: the village now little and distant.

"Higher!" he exclaimed, and the wind, as he could listen and obey, lifted him higher until a silver streak appeared on the horizon: "The sea!" he said, he opened his arms as he let the currents toss and twirl him until the arrived at the docks.

Without landing he coasted the houses and ships, freezing roads and canvases. Then he went offshore, carefully gliding to the surface of water. He touched the surface of the sea with his hand, than tasted the water on his fingers: salted. He continued flying on the water, sometimes nearer sometimes higher in the air, but with the constant anxiety of falling into it. After what happened in the lake, he had no desire of swimming, even if he was pretty sure he would not drown.

Suddenly, a small movement on the water caught his attention: a figure, a really big fish was swimming at his own speed, jumping often above the surface. Its skin was smooth and not scaled, and he was even bigger than the boy and there seemed to be a smile on his mouthline. Jack smiled when he noticed more strange fishes were following his trail.

Suddenly, one of them popped out of the water right below him and pushed him up: Jack almost screamed when he realized he interacted with it. Slowly, he approached the water again and extended a hand to touch the back of one of the fishes. It was wet and slippery, but at least it was a touch.

That was when the seed of doubt was planted inside of him: was he really a ghost or something else entirely? He could create ice (even if he wasn't able to freeze seawater, apparently) and his presence made it snow: the Moon probably had the answers, but the Moon wouldn't say anything.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden turnabout of the group of fishes: disappointed, Jack at first thought of following them, but then his eyes fell on the horizon.

In front of him there was land.

He was in the Old World.


End file.
